I Can't Take It Off
by Crowbartender
Summary: Life's a bath; you can fill it again and again, but its original state is empty. This is a story about unrequited(?) love.
1. Chapter 1

Bonnibel had lost a lot in her life. Sometimes things went missing, or people died, or friends went on long journeys with very little explanation as to why and didn't even stay in contact. Poof. Vanished. Just like that.

Just like that.

There was an easy tell for when Bonnibel was upset. She would become overly invested in her science projects. Instead of leading her kingdom, being the caring and attentive princess she was meant to be, she would become somewhat of an antisocial goblin, growling angry words under her breath, snapping at Peppermint, dismissing any outside connection to the world.

Not this time, though. There was no keeping _her_ out. Somehow, in some fantastic and mind-boggling way, Marceline found her way inside. She found her way in and she didn't leave when told to. She was relentless and disobedient. The most vulgar creature Bonnibel had the pleasure of knowing.

She grounded herself when with Bonnibel. The princess wondered why many times. She could fly. She could take to the skies and go as high and as far as she wanted to. So why, why, why, why did she stay inside? Why?

She stood there, stood, peering over Bonnibel's shoulder. She didn't say anything. She was spying, but it seemed like a pointless endeavour considering she made her entrance very obvious. Maybe she wanted Bonnibel to speak first, to greet her kindly, not coldly.

"Hi, Marceline," she finally said, her voice hoarse from underuse and fatigue.

"Oh! You can talk! I was wondering if you'd turned into a lumping mute, since I've tried to call you about, hmm, a million times!"

Her voice became an octave higher when her emotions flared. She really was bothered by Bonnibel ignoring her, which was funny. So funny. She had the audacity to disappear for four years without even a letter, and she's the one complaining about being ignored? Funny.

"I'm sorry, I've been busy."

"Doing what? All I see is a bunch of paper and a few hundred neglected citizens."

"I haven't been sleeping well. My lab work relaxes me."

Tiredly, very tiredly, Bonnibel picked her pen back up. She hadn't looked at Marceline yet, even though the vampire was close. She was leaning over her shoulder and, yes, there it was. Marceline's hand touched her arm. It was a light touch, a feather on her coat.

The breath in her ear was the part that came as a surprise.

"I know how to make you relax," Marceline whispered, her feather-hand becoming stronger, becoming a clamp.

"Excuse me?"

Bonnibel turned now, confused. It was a mistake. It was the biggest mistake. Marceline had done nothing different. Her hair was as dishevelled as the day she crashed into the princess' life, and her clothes were odd and looked to be scavenged from a warehouse thirty years ago. She was the same as she'd always been, but for some reason, it always stunned Bonnibel to see her. She was a sunset over the ocean that was the same each time, but never any less beautiful.

It ached. That's it. It ached to see Marceline.

Bonnibel sighed then, not because the vampire was vague, but because she couldn't do anything else. Whatever she wanted to do all those years ago, she still didn't have the courage to do now.

Marceline grinned, finally leaving the floor to recline on her back, floating leisurely around the lab now she had the princess' attention.

"I made up this bath recipe. Sometimes I fall asleep in the tub because it's so relaxing."

"You could fall asleep in the mouth of a giant," Bonnibel countered. She wasn't sure why, but Marceline brought out her sarcasm more than anyone else. She wanted to be rude and playful with the vampire, and she was. She was more herself with Marceline than with anyone else.

Marceline chuckled. She had the sweetest laugh. Sometimes it was sinister, but at times like this, it was a precious tinkle, a caress of the ears. Bonnibel had no chance of hiding the smile that spread over her face when she heard it.

"Ah, see, you are interested in my secret recipe. I can come over tonight if you want- do it all for you," she suggested. She was so calm, so at ease. How could she be? Bonnibel was stiff and uncomfortable. She felt sweat beading her palms.

"I'd like that," she lied.

* * *

Of course, Bonnibel didn't want Marceline there with her when she needed to get undressed. Marceline was not shy. She dropped her clothes in front of Bonnibel so many times that the princess lost count. Sadly, it wasn't for the purpose Bonnibel longed for. It was for sleepovers or the quick removal of recently stained shirts. Nothing more. Never anything more.

Bonnibel knew why she couldn't sleep. She'd lost something important. She lost something so important that she herself felt lost without it, which was silly. She was a woman of science, not sentiments. She should be able to cut her ties to any object, especially a simple piece of fabric. But she couldn't. She ached.

Marceline arrived late that night, sitting on the rim of the tub with a few containers and drawstring bags filled with sand-like substances. She ran the bath and flicked her ingredients in, smiling proudly, as if this bath would solve all Bonnibel's problems.

It wouldn't. A bath couldn't fill the void. It couldn't replace what she lost.

The vampire stopped scattering her secrets and glanced at Bonnibel.

"I've never done this for anyone before; I wanted to thank you for rescuing Hambo. I know a bath doesn't really repay you, but it's a start, right?"

Now Bonnibel remembered why she gave up her treasured shirt. It was for that smile, that childlike twinkle in Marceline's eye that only arose when she saw Hambo again. He was her physical reminder of an important time in her life. People needed mementos like that.

Bonnibel's shirt was a lie. She wore it every night, because Marceline's scent still lingered in the stitches. If she imagined hard enough, it was almost like the vampire was in bed with her. She'd fooled herself after a while. She'd believed her own fantasy. Now with the shirt gone, she was thrust back into reality. The reality where Marceline was just her friend, where she always had been, and nothing happened. Nothing ever happened because Bonnibel didn't know how to make it happen.

Marceline lifted a fist and bopped Bonnibel's arm lightly.

"Thanks."

The princess was daring and careful. She wanted to leap, to be hasty, to be frantic, but she moved slowly. She moved slowly so Marceline would have the chance to stop her, or to back away.

She didn't. She sat there on the edge of the bathtub, her arms spreading, welcoming.

They hugged. Marceline's face was lost in Bonnibel's chest and Bonnibel's face buried into the thick black hair that carried the smell she'd been missing all this time.

"I'm glad to help," Bonnibel said, feeling Marceline's hands loosen. No, not yet. She wanted to hold her for a moment more, be stuck in the scent and in her arms, because she ached for it.

But Bonnibel had learnt how to control herself long ago. She let go and stepped back. The bath was almost full. She turned off the taps and Marceline stood up.

"Let me know if it helps."

She left.

Marceline left the room, left the castle, but she was still there, trapped inside Bonnibel's heart. That was a place she would never leave no matter how much Bonnibel wished she would.

The princess dropped her dress and climbed into the bath. It was a little too hot, but she didn't mind. It smelt of berries and was a light pink colour. The salts had dissolved and Bonnibel enjoyed how it felt, but she still had pain.

She felt every single stab Marceline had caused and she didn't know what to do.

And she cried. She cried in the tub, because she was a coward. All the times she'd wished she'd said something or done something were there in her mind. She'd been cruel at times, only because she was angry at herself for not being brave enough to confess.

She cried harder.

The bath didn't help.


	2. Chapter 2

Bonnibel didn't like to lie. She was a convincing liar, and she lied with good reason, but she never liked it. Sometimes it was necessary, but Bonnibel was never willing to lie and she avoided it mostly, but she lied so long as it kept her people safe, so long as some good came from it. But she rarely felt the need to keep her own feelings safe.

She didn't like lying to Marceline. Secrets were hard to keep, especially ones that weren't meant to be kept. She knew she had to tell the truth, but how could she? How could she expose all the things that had built up inside of her for all these years? It seemed impossible. There was so much to say and so much of it that couldn't be put into words. Of all the words Bonnibel knew, none of them defined her pain and inner stirrings well enough. Those words in her throat just wouldn't do, but they sat there all the time. They sat there and waited to be spoken. But how could she speak words she didn't know? How?

The time came when Marceline made an appearance again. She swept in one night with a small backpack. She had a habit of turning up without warning. It was as endearing as it was bothersome.

"Did you like the bath?"

Bonnibel smiled. The vampire was eager to know she did well, that she was useful. Marceline might prefer to keep her feelings shielded, but it was clear that she valued simple things. She valued teddies and scavenged clothes and childish pranks and baths. Insulting something she valued was a big mistake. The princess tried not to do that anymore, even if she didn't understand why it was important to Marceline.

"Yes."

And there it was. She lied. She did it. She told herself she wouldn't, but she did. Lying like that, about that, was not the kind of lie Bonnibel was used to telling. No. Lies like that had consequences.

"Great! I knew you would. I can do it again for you tonight, since it takes more than one to do the trick and I can't give you the recipe."

"Why?"

A sly fanged grin was flashed.

"It's my secret."

Bonnibel opened her mouth to scold Marceline for keeping secrets, but she realised that's all she'd been doing. Secret after secret after secret. She kept them locked away. She couldn't be hypocritical.

Marceline raised an eyebrow, expecting Bonnibel to prod her and demand to know, for she was a curious woman always seeking new information regardless of the subject matter.

Not this time. Maybe she was being respectful today. Maybe.

"Okay. Sure. Come over tonight." Bonnibel had always wanted to say that to Marceline, but with half-lidded eyes and a smoky voice. Marceline's mouth would stretch up and she would be more than willing to sneak in at nightfall to do unspeakable things to the princess. But that was just a fantasy, just a perverted daydream.

Bonnibel watched Marceline leave.

* * *

She didn't want to cry again. She didn't want to cry with the scent of berries lodged in her nose and Marceline lodged in her mind. She wanted a soothing bath that her friend, her _friend _and nothing more, prepared for her. She had to be strong.

Marceline mixed the salts and tested the water.

"Okay, you can get in now."

She didn't move as she said this. She continued to wave her fingers through the water, trying to further stir the already dissolved ingredients.

Bonnibel started to take her coat off, wondering if Marceline was lingering for a particular reason. She seemed immersed in the water. Her expression was firm. She only looked like that when she was remembering something.

"I once went for a month without a bath," she said.

"Recently?"

Marceline chuckled and shook her head and the sound reverberated in the confined space of the bathroom. It brought Bonnibel's heart to life. It was a rapid beat, a song too fast for her to keep up with, a song that didn't end.

She breathed in nervously, fully undressed and slipped into the hot scented water. It was a darker shade of pink this time. Marceline didn't look. Not once. It was a little disappointing, her complete disinterest.

"This happened when I was with Simon. It was winter, and he would only let me bathe in cold water. He hated heat for a while. Wouldn't let me light a fire, and so I stayed cold and dirty. I wanted that instead of a freezing bath. I didn't really like baths then either, so I didn't mind." She sighed, her breath hitting the water and making it shiver. "Things change, I guess."

The murky pink berry liquid hid Bonnibel's body, but she felt like Marceline could see her, all of her; there was nothing hidden. The vampire had eyes like that. Penetrative. Red like blood and rubies. Deadly but invaluably kind. They'd seen a lot. Yet there was also a lot they weren't seeing. There was a lot Bonnibel wanted them to see. Could she ever make them see?

"Do you miss your childhood?" Bonnibel dared to ask.

Marceline was crouching next to the tub, her elbows resting on the rim. Her fingers teased the water's surface still, causing small ripples. Her face scrunched and she tapped her fingers a little too hard against the water, as if irritated by the question, causing a small splash.

She looked at Bonnibel then and told her:

"Hell no."


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep didn't escape Bonnibel anymore. The comfort the shirt offered had gone, yes, but the warmth of the bath presented a new sense of comfort. The smell of berries and Marceline rested on her skin each night and it helped her sleep. The bath was no longer a failed attempt. Her miserable restlessness had been replaced with light-hearted dreams and happy illusions. It was back to pretending and longing. The fantasies kept her mind in a nicer, imaginary place. It was better than misery. Anything was better than misery.

Marceline didn't always run a bath when she visited, but Bonnibel mostly hoped she would. She stayed longer then, not always in the same room, but she liked to see Bonnibel to bed after the bath. She claimed to want to admire her work and the princess believed her. There could be no other reason.

Bonnibel wanted to know the secret recipe, wanted to know what exactly made it so effective. She wanted to know badly. But once she knew, Marceline would stop visiting as often. She wouldn't be the last thing Bonnibel saw before she fell asleep, and that was one of her favourite facets of the evening. It couldn't end. Bonnibel didn't want to lose anything anymore. She'd made enough sacrifices.

When night took hold of the land, Marceline arrived with a new addition to the ritual. She had her axe bass. Bonnibel was actually surprised she hadn't brought it with her sooner; it was her favourite instrument, after all.

The bath was prepared as mysteriously as always, and then Marceline played her bass by the door. She sat outside of the bathroom so the music didn't echo and disrupt the peace she was trying so hard to maintain, but Bonnibel missed her company.

"You can come in if you want. The volume will be fine," Bonnibel assured. She tried - wanted - to sound calm. She didn't want Marceline to hear, to even partially detect, the burning need to have her in the bathroom, to have her close.

"Cool," Marceline replied.

She pushed open the door and walked over to the bath, sitting down next to it, her back resting against the porcelain. She played a soft tune with a slow plucking pattern. It was soothing.

"Can I ask you something?" Bonnibel questioned. Marceline glanced at her and the princess lowered her head, quietly adding, "It's likely that you'll find it silly."

"Go ahead."

Marceline strummed once.

"You float a lot, but most of the time… when you're with me… you walk. Am I seeing things?"

Marceline didn't say anything for a while. She stopped playing and twisted the tuning pegs of her guitar. She fidgeted like that when she was nervous; she didn't like being put on the spot.

Bonnibel was about to tell her that she didn't have to answer, but the vampire sighed and said, "I do land with you more; you're right." She tested a string, wasn't satisfied, and adjusted the peg again. "I didn't think you'd notice."

"I did."

"Do I have to have a reason for it?"

"I suppose not. I was just curious."

Silence. No fidgeting or movement. Marceline was stalling. She wasn't finished, but she wasn't sure how to continue.

But finally:

"I do have a reason, though… Reasons, actually."

"May I know what they are?"

Marceline turned her head, her eyes meeting Bonnibel's. She smiled. Her embarrassment was obvious.

"I like to be on the same level as you. I like to stand by your side, not float above you. I like when our elbows touch or when we walk and our footfalls have the same pattern. I also think it's polite. I do respect you, you know? It just feels right to be on my feet around you. I like it."

Bonnibel stared at Marceline. She hadn't expected it to be anything like that. She'd thought it was because it was easier to trip her over, or because floating tempted her to fly off when Bonnibel bored her too much. There were so many reasons and none of them were any of what Marceline had just told her.

"Thank you."

A string was tweaked clumsily and it whined. Marceline turned to look at it as if she had done it accidentally. She was blushing.

"Don't be weird about it. I don't want it to be weird."

"It's not. I appreciate you telling me. I appreciate _you_."

"You're still making it weird."

"Sorry."

Marceline strummed twice.

"It's fine. You've always been weird, so I don't mind."

"You're a butt," Bonnibel told her, sinking under the surface of the water.

She heard a mumble from above. It could've been the guitar strings being plucked or it could've been Marceline retorting. Bonnibel couldn't be sure. She was submerged.

* * *

**Welcome back, dear friend c:**


End file.
